


Where the Shadows Lay

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [58]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Someone wanting them dead isn’t a new experience. Someone wanting them dead badly enough to sic the Vagabond on them is just all kinds of uncalled for.





	Where the Shadows Lay

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for Anon who wanted Freewood with the Vagabond hired to kill the crew. (And bonus Drama, because reasons. :D?)

They’ve definitely had better days.

Botch job and the cops chasing them until Michael lost them a few blocks back, but the damage had already been done. Tires shredded from bullets and reckless driving and it’s just as much luck as skill that leaves them alive at the end of it.

“Gavin, you need to shut the fuck up,” Michael says, pained wheeze to it as Gavin drags him from the wreck of their getaway car. 

Used to be a lovely little thing. Shiny and fast and expensive as balls to hear Michael talk, and now it’s so much scrap metal wrapped around a light pole. Gas leaking from the tank and a hazard to be around.

Gavin ignores Michael because he’s the one who crashed the car and Gavin is not having it from him right now.

Not after that stunning display of skill and ability and total lack of turning to avoid obstacles.

“Oh my God,” Michael mutters, stumbling hard against Gavin who takes more of his weight without protest. “Oh my fucking God. Gimme your gun, asshole, swear to God I’m going to kill you myself.”

Gavin snorts, and focuses on hauling Michael out of the blast range. Not the easiest thing he’s ever done, body protesting every step of the way and Michael's breathing all wrong in his ear, but they don’t have a lot of choice in things at the moment.

When Gavin judges they’re a reasonable distance away he settles Michael against a wall because he’s a heavy bastard and Gavin’s ribs are not happy about it. (His ribs, his back. Everything, really.)

Mind churning, trying to figure out where they go from here.

The others got away – they _did_ \- and Gavin’s phone is lost in the wreckage of the car, too risky to go back for it. God knows where Michael’s is after the tussle with the Merryweather goon before they got out of the building.

Michael’s earpiece went the way of his phone, most likely, and Gavin’s is fidgety, fussy. Bursts of static in between snippets of conversation from the others.

Not the worst situation, but they’ve been better.

There’s a safehouse not too far from where they are. 

Good place to go to ground until things settle down out here. Contact the others to let them know they’re still alive, patch each other up best they can.

Just. Need to rest first, orient themselves before they set off.

“Getting a bit fat there, boi,” he murmurs, because Michael’s not doing well. Bleeding all over and looking like he just came out of the fight ring again. Worse. “Too many fast food runs with Jeremy, I reckon.”

Michael scowls at him, but doesn’t argue the point, which is worrying in itself.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Gavin says, sitting back on his heels. Feels blood spilling from his split lip when he grins, slipping into the scruff on his chin but it’s a small hurt. Slight sting compared to everything else. “Michael Jones, agreeing with me.”

And _there_ , there is the Michael Gavin knows. Snarl on his face and mouth opening to retort, slap Gavin down a peg or two in this little back-and-forth game of theirs.

“ _Fuck._ ”

There’s a sound behind Gavin. Footsteps. Michael’s gaze skipping past him to focus on something behind him, eyes narrowing. Hand coming up to grab the front of Gavin's shirt, jerking him down so their eyes meet.

Gavin flails, throws a hand out for balance. It puts them closer together, lets Michael speak without fear of his words carrying past them.

“Get the fuck out of here Gavin,” he says, no levity to it. “ _Go._ ”

Gavin stares at him, sees the worry, fear, in his eyes quickly hidden because Michael's like that, isn’t he. Glares at Gavin to make sure he knows Michael’s not fucking around here, to goddamn listen to him for once. _Please_.

The footsteps slow. Stop altogether, and Gavin hears a gun being cocked.

Not the cops, because they would have shot by now. Yelled a bit too, unimaginative threats and insults, but whoever crept up on them hasn’t bothered with that.

Puts the hair on the back of Gavin’s neck up, chill down his spine.

“Alright,” Gavin says, just for Michael. “Alright.”

There’s a flash of relief, determination, in Michael's eyes as he lets Gavin go. Shoves him to push him away, and Gavin uses the slight momentum to start things off.

Just - 

“Sorry, boi,” he says, and snatches the gun he can see tucked into Michael’s waistband hidden by that jacket of his. Gets to his feet and turns, gun raised to see a figure standing a few feet away.

Everyone in Los Santos knows who the Vagabond is, of course they do. Too many stories, rumors, floating about the city not to.

Somehow the reality of the man is more intimidating than all the horrible stories that go along with the name, his reputation.

Black of his skull mask terrifying in the dim light of the alley, and Gavin can hear Michael bitching him out behind him. (Fear, desperation. Anger.)

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Gavin says, lays the charm on thick as he spots the Vagabond’s gun aimed at him, lovely little standoff going on. “Which is a shame, I’ve heard about your work. Amazing stuff.”

Horrifying, too, if you just go by the stories. 

If you bother to do a little digging, you get a better idea of the truth. Glimpse of the larger picture and all that.

Still a big, scary bastard, but not quite the monster people like to paint him as.

Ruthless, yes, but not a monster. (Los Santos, though. Loves to twist things just so, turn things on their heads and backwards.)

The Vagabond’s watching them, nary a flicker of emotion to give him away. Tall and dark and menacing and Gavin will be honest here, no reason not to, but this isn’t how he thought he’d go out.

And he’s thought about it, since he got into this life. Scraping by on his own by picking pockets and dabbling in night-time robbery. Picking up hacking almost by accident and on and on and on, all the ways he’d die and never once something like this.

Oversight on his part, surely.

The crew’s gotten big enough to be a problem for people here in Los Santos. Rocking the boat, as the says goes. Shaking things up and making people uneasy and of course someone would think of sending the Vagabond after them before too long.

“Gavin, what the _fuck_?” Michael hisses, sound of his voice drawing the Vagabond’s attention as he switches his aim to Michael.

Nice fat target siting on his arse the way he is, and Gavin won’t have that either.

Moves to put himself between Michael and the Vagabond’s gun, smile full of teeth when the man tips his head to the side, just so.

Not expecting Gavin to do that, or the way Michael's full-on bitching at Gavin out for being this kind of stupid. (Might stand a chance if he ran, popped off a few shots at the Vagabond and fled. Left Michael behind as a sacrifice and everything would be fine, yeah? No worries at all.)

Gavin’s earpiece decides it’s going to be good, and he gets a loud burst of static in his ear followed by worried yelling – the others demanding to know what’s going on – and it’s distracting. So. Gavin reaches up and pulls the mangled thing out of his ear. Tucks all nice and safe in his shirt pocket and gives the Vagabond a little smile.

“Sorry, that was rude of me,” he says. Shrugs. “It was giving me a bit of a headache too, to be honest.”

There’s a burst of muffled yelling, shouting, cursing from the earpiece, and Gavin smiles brighter when the Vagabond gives him this _look_.

Well.

Gavin assumes he’s giving him that look anyway, so used to the particular vibe he gets when someone does it.

“Where were we?” Gavin asks, shuffles to keep Michael squarely behind him when Michael moves around. 

Tries to pull the Vagabond’s attention back to him, and Gavin’s certain they must look like a pair of lunatics, but nothing about this is funny.

The Vagabond says nothing, but after a moment he lowers his gun. 

Gavin is...confused, to say the least.

Figures the only reason the Vagabond would track them down like this would be to kill them, and since the man has a zero percent failure rate this is odd behavior from him.

“Fucking shoot him!” Michael hisses, like one of those damned shoulder angels you see in the cartoons. “Gavin!”

Gavin huffs, shifts his grip on his borrowed gun and thinks about it.

He’s a better-than-average shot, and from this distance there’s not much chance he’d miss. Assuming the Vagabond is half as good as the rumors say, he’ll still lose precious seconds bringing his gun back up to aim it at Gavin. (Or, Gavin thinks. He could go for Michael instead. Cost him less time to aim and all that.)

So.

Gavin lowers his gun, decides it’s the safer bet here. Show of trust or faith, or maybe just Gavin being a naive bastard about to get them both killed. (Flip a coin, take a risk.)

The Vagabond could have shot them any time he wanted. Killed them before they even knew he was there, those deliberate footsteps and accompanying drama. Little standoff that’s taken a strange turn.

He doesn’t know why the Vagabond hasn’t, but Gavin’s not about to question it. (Not yet.)

The Vagabond inclines his head – smug bastard – and walks away without a word spoken.

Gavin stares after him, no idea what to make of the whole strange situation.

“Jesus fuck, Gavin, what was that?” Michael demands, struggles to get on his feet, and Gavin tucks his gun away to help the idiot before he hurts himself.

Takes the glare Michael shoots him, the frustrated punch to his shoulder without complaint because he knows Michael. 

“Safehouse isn’t far,” Gavin says, feeling shaky after that confrontation with the Vagabond, the aftermath of the chase and resulting crash. The whole damn day. “You going to faint on me before we get there?”

Teasing edge to it, mocking, just enough to get Michael fired up. Stubborn as hell and angry about it as he berates Gavin for being an idiot and not running while he had the chance, and Gavin bites down a laugh as he points them in the right direction.

========

They get one hell of a dressing down from Geoff and Jack when the others come get them. Lecture about why you don’t just go radio silent on them like that Gavin, Jesus fucking Christ. (Too soft when it comes down to it, this crew. Care about each other too damn much and it’s bound to get them killed one day.)

Gavin listens to it all with half an ear, well used to Geoff’s lectures and the things he won’t, can’t, say that go into them. Too busy watching Jack handling Michael, quiet words and the way the two of them just get one another.

And then - 

“He _what_?” Jack says, tone of his voice derailing Geoff’s lecture, drawing everyone's attention.

Gavin winces as Jack pins him in place with a look. Expression hard to read as always.

“What’s this about the Vagabond?”

Yes, that.

Gavin clears his throat, all too aware of the way everyone’s watching him. 

“Did I forget to mention that?”

========

Geoff puts the crew on lockdown, once everyone’s accounted for. Hides them away in a safehouse only the crew knows about until they get this mess sorted, and Gavin goes along with if for the first few days.

Hurts too much to get up to any shenanigans, as Jack phrases it. Waits until he heals up a bit, until Michael's moving around under his own power. Gotten more vocal about things and doesn’t make Gavin worry so much.

Doesn’t stop him from getting restless from being cooped up, sneaking out to wander the perimeter. Old habits and paranoia, and it pays off in its own way a week down the road when he realizes there’s a sniper out there.

Little red light sweeping along the asphalt to land over his heart, wink of light against the scope on a rooftop in the distance.

Gentle warning, Gavin knows. Rooted to the spot, all too aware of how vulnerable he is.

Could be anyone out there, the bastards after them or some other enemy with incredible timing.

The way the dot vanishes without warning, there and gone, and Gavin still standing tells him it’s not.

Knows the Vagabond’s too smart to hang around after that little...whatever it was, but he still goes to check it out. 

Slips past the B-Team members guarding the perimeter and makes his best guess where the Vagabond would have set up his sniper’s nest. Spends half the night looking for it before he stumbles on that damn thing. Finds cigarette butts and empty cans of diet eCola. Candy wrappers. Nothing helpful, and it’s driving Gavin mad.

So.

Gavin sneaks out.

Does a proper job of it after he lets slip they might want to consider the threat of snipers. (Plenty of viable spots for one to set up shop, pick them off one by one, and all that.)

Plays dirty and calls on a favor with Lindsay, bribes Matt with guaranteed good behavior from Gavin for a solid month to be redeemed when Matt sees fit.

Lindsay’s too much like him, fire in her eyes about protecting their boys and she knows how Gavin works by now. Makes him promise to check in regularly. Not do anything stupid like getting himself killed, and sends him off with a kiss to his cheek and the keys to one of her cars in his hand. Winks as she tells him no one knows it’s out of the shop yet, won’t be missed.

And Matt -

He’s _Matt_.

Too clever by far, saw it coming from the moment Gavin and Michael told the crew about the Vagabond’s appearance.

Demands Gavin send him everything he finds out and maybe not die out there, huh? Be a shitty way to go out.

Gavin leaves his gear at the warehouse because that would be a dead giveaway of his intentions, and he’s got plenty stashed elsewhere. (Never know when something will go wrong, after all. Best to be prepared for anything.)

He goes to a safehouse even Michael doesn’t know about. Hidey spot from before his days with the crew he hasn’t needed in ages. Dusts everything off and starts planning.

Gavin goes to see Maddy down by the docks. Ignores the rumblings from her boys who are the closest things to pirates Los Santos has these days.

Wheels and deals, sells off favors like it’s going out of fashion and gets names, a motive, in return. (Bit of debt he can’t handle, the way of things in a city like Los Santos.)

Bastards the Fakes tangled with a year back, broke their crews down to kindling when they tried to move in Fake territory. Killed some of their allies in the area, made a mess of things that forced them to treat more harshly than they would have otherwise. (Geoff coldly furious, and the rest right there with him.)

“Ah, well then,” Gavin says, does a little more digging after sending off a message to Matt with what he’s learned. 

More than enough reason to hold a grudge. Want to hit back at the Fakes, make them hurt.

Go after them one by one, let Geoff watch his little empire crumble and burn, supports knocked out from under him.

Maybe hire the Vagabond, offer him a significant amount of money to make sure someone did the job right, _but_.

Why let Gavin and Michael go?

Why not kill Gavin when he had him in his cross hairs? Or go after the others when he had the element of surprise on his side?

==========

Turns out, even the Vagabond’s got enemies too big to handle on his own.

Rival crew to the Fakes, funding the bastards who are taking the revenge game to a far more personal level than most they’ve dealt with until now.

Hired the Vagabond on to deal with them because they didn’t trust those idiots to get the job done, or maybe they just wanted to watch the chaos unfold.

Weaken the Fakes, get them looking the wrong way and move in for the kill. Use the Vagabond as another distraction in the meantime. 

Big enough threat to make him agree to work for them, and not one of theirs so why worry what happens to him? (Might want to lump him in with the Fakes before it’s all said and done, remove another obstacle in their way.)

“Did I get that right?” Gavin asks, arm pressed to his throat and point of a knife resting under his eye.

Vagabond in his space and most likely the stupidest risk Gavin’s taken to date. (Hopefully not his last.)

“I don’t have all the details, so I hope you forgive me. I did the best I could with what I had.”

And oh, the favors he owes now. Gonna be a long time in getting back to where he was before all this. 

The Vagabond is staring at him, using that damn mask and this whole knife thing of his to intimidate Gavin, but _honestly_.

The man’s been leaving them a trail of breadcrumbs to follow this whole time. Doing what he can to lead them to the right answers without outright telling them.

Well, alright.

He’d taken a more roundabout way of doing things than most people would, but Gavin figured it out, didn't he?

Tracked the man to his little safehouse and almost gotten past his security before being caught. 

And now here they are.

There’s a nail digging into Gavin's back, stabbing into his shoulder blade and he wriggles a little. Tries to get the pressure off it – and the Vagabond makes this...noise.

Alarmed, has him yanking the knife away from Gavin’s face and moving back a little, head cocked as though he has no damn idea what to make of Gavin.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gavin mutters, using what room he’s been given by the Vagabond backing off to get more comfortable. “Nail poking me in the back. Annoying.”

He looks up at the Vagabond, and goes still because the man seems confused.

Holds the knife up where Gavin can see it and waggles it to remind Gavin of the precarious position he’s in. (Looks like he can’t believe Gavin isn’t in the least bit concerned.)

“Yes, yes,” Gavin says. _Soothes_. “You love your knives. I understand. Very shiny and sharp.”

The arm against Gavin’s throat presses harder, punishment for making light of things, and Gavin - 

“Rude,” Gavin wheezes, going lightheaded. “Also, not helping your case.”

There’s a little snarl, frustration to it as the Vagabond eases up. 

_Looms_.

They stare at each other for a long, long moment, and then the Vagabond just...deflates.

Doesn’t sigh, no, but he pulls his arm away from Gavin’s throat, takes a few steps back and his shoulder slump. 

Watches Gavin, completely baffled. 

Knife in his hand like a child who’s thrown a tantrum and didn’t get the reaction he expected and no idea what to do next.

And Gavin.

Gavin grins, straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. Plays off the Golden Boy’s reputation, borrows a little of Geoff’s theatrics.

“What do you say,” Gavin says, bounces on his heels. “What do you say we team up, yeah? Make those bastards sorry they thought they could get away with this?”

Using those poor bastards with a grudge against the Fake, strong-arming the Vagabond into working for them. Everything they’ve done to get things to this stage, send the Fakes into hiding and damn near kill Michael.

All of it.

Turn everything around on them and let them know who they’re messing with, remind them how the Fakes got where they are. Why everyone in the city knows the Vagabond’s name, his reputation.

Rude wake up call, as they say, and too long in coming.

The Vagabond snorts, tucks his knife away and _looks_ at Gavin. 

Nods his head, and Gavin laughs.

Knows he’s a damned idiot, taking the risks he has, but he’s got a good feeling about this.


End file.
